Edge of Dawn (37 page)

“We're going to get you to a hospital now.”

“My grandfather. He was going to the Lion's Gate. People always buy at the Lion's Gate. Can you get him? And my parents and sister are in Bo
ğ
azkale.”

Richard hesitated. He had done only a few grief calls during his time at APD. It was hard enough to tell a family that their loved one had been killed. How could he tell this boy his entire community was gone and that he, however unwillingly, had played a part in those deaths? He decided not to lie, just, for the moment, omit.

“I'm sorry, but I found your grandfather. He's been killed.” The boy whipped his head to the side, trying to hold back tears. Richard removed the lion carving from his pocket. “He did beautiful work. May I keep this? As a reminder?”

The boy, his eyes glistening with tears, regarded the little lion. “Of what?”

“That I'm going to find these men and see that they face justice.”

“I want to kill them,” Acabey said savagely.

“That's just death. I want them punished.”

Acabey stared up into Richard's face and gave a taut nod and squeezed Richard's hand. Weber, with soldiers in tow, jumped down next to them.

“My family…?”

“First, hospital.”

Four soldiers gently lifted Acabey up to waiting hands of the soldiers on top of the wall. He screamed in pain, but they got him to the helicopter and used the medical kit to give him a shot of morphine.

Ç
elik said quietly to Richard, “Are we done here?” Richard nodded.

The engines whined, the rotors began slowly turning, and then the ground was receding beneath them, the buildings becoming mere flashes of red tile in the midday sun.

Richard gazed out across the empty grasslands. “I wonder where it's gone.”

“I have a feeling we'll be finding out real soon,” Cross replied.

 

Chapter

TWENTY-ONE

D
URING
the helicopter ride,
Ç
elik had been on the radio constantly. Richard assumed he was informing various government agencies of the deaths in Bo
ğ
azkale. When they landed at the military base, an ambulance had met them and taken Acabey to the hospital.

Back at I
şı
k headquarters, Richard requested a meeting with all three generals. The expressions on the faces of the men who looked up at him were grim. Richard stood at one end of the oval table, flanked by Weber and Cross.

“What is it after?” S
ö
zer asked.

“Best guess, Mr. Kenntnis and my ward. Maybe me as well.”

Marangoz looked at Cross. “You were here with Kenntnis in the thirties, and like him you have not aged. Are you of his kind—”

“Uh … short answer … no.”

“But you are clearly not human, so can you not do something to combat this thing?” S
ö
zer asked.

“Yeah. But whether I can beat it…” Cross shrugged. “Well, that's another issue. And it's got little human helpers and it will get more. You gonna be ready to shoot your own citizens?”

The soldiers exchanged glances. “This comes at a difficult time,”
Ç
elik said. “There's tension between the civilian government and the military. We had sworn to honor Kemal's vision and keep Turkey secular, but the Islamists have gained in both influence and government authority in recent years. They have been chipping away at our power and prerogatives. If the military is seen as attacking civilians…”

“Bottom line. Can they … will they find us?” Weber asked.

“I'm here and Kenntnis is here. They'll find us.” Cross's tone was flat and implacable. “They can't sense Richard or the kid, but we're like goddamn flares.”

Weber blew out a sharp breath. “Well, that's just great. So how secure is this facility if … when they do?”

“And is there a back way out?” Richard asked.

“Of course,” Marangoz said. “We weren't going to trap ourselves.”

“We need to make sure everybody knows how to use it.” There were nods of agreement. Richard continued, “We know one of the men present at Bo
ğ
azkale was Mark Grenier. He would have just arrived on a plane out of Britain. We really need to know who else was with him, and given the timing of the attack on Bo
ğ
azkale, they probably landed in Ankara. It would have been a private plane. It would be nice to know for certain who we're up against.”

“We will make inquiries,” S
ö
zer said.

The meeting broke up. Richard checked his watch. Nearly five
P.M
. He realized his head was light and his legs rubbery. “I need food and sleep. Preferably in that order. Everybody okay with that?” he asked Weber and Cross.

“Huh, maybe it is the End of Days,” Weber said, but he was smiling. “First time I've ever heard you reach that conclusion without somebody nagging.”

“I can be taught.”

“I'm gonna head out. Patrol a little,” Cross said. “Sure wish we had that sword.”

“Not as much as me,” Richard snapped.

“Well, you'd be wrong, it's
my
only hope for an ending.” The creature splintered into red-tinged light shards and vanished.

“And our only hope to keep from ending,” Richard muttered to the empty space.

The scientists, Kenntnis, and Mosi were in the mess hall. Weber and Richard paused in the doorway for a moment, watching. At this time of day, there were heated chafing dishes, and the room was filled with the aroma of grilled kofta and pilaf. Chen was holding a piece of construction paper, and as he flipped and turned it, various colors and designs appeared. There was an array of colored pens on the table in front of the little girl and the scientist. Mosi was frowning, but suddenly her brow cleared and she gave a bell-like laugh. She grabbed the paper and manipulated it while the scientist nodded and smiled.

“Do we dare let them go and work tonight?” Weber said, speaking aloud Richard's thoughts.

“Let's find out where they're at on recovering the sword.”

“I have this horrible vision that it just bounced around that lab in Rochester and is sitting in a janitor's closet or a men's room somewhere.”

“If only we could get that lucky.”

They walked toward the men and the little girl at the table. When Mosi saw Richard, she jumped up and ran to him, clutching the piece of paper. “Look! We made a hexaflexagon!” Her excitement and the fact she wanted to share it with him filled Richard's heart. He looked down at the folded construction paper and saw a flash of color between the seams. “We made different faces different colors, and then when you fold it you get to see them. Dr. Chen says this is math, but this is fun math.”

“That's wonderful. You'll have to show me how to make one.”

“Okay, let's do it now.”

“Damon and I are really hungry, Mosi. Let us eat first.”

She looked mulish for an instant, then she nodded. “Okay. But you promise?”

“I promise.” His body ached for sleep, but he thought he could hang on a bit longer for her.

Famished, he ate six of the intricately spiced lamb meatballs and a mound of rice. While he ate, Mosi cut and folded construction paper, colored the sides while keeping up a meandering explanation of how it all worked. Richard met Chen's eyes over the child's head, and they shared a smile.

“You have children?” Richard asked.

“A daughter.”

“I'm sorry. I'll try to get you home as soon as possible.”

“It is all right. I feel an obligation,” Chen said.

“Speaking of, how are you coming on that … ah … project?”

Chen picked up on Richard's obvious reluctance to speak openly about the sword and was equally vague. Unfortunately, the answer was far more specific. “Alas, not well. I wish I had better news.”

Richard and Mosi played with the hexaflexagon for a while. Weber finally intervened. “Hey, Mosi, would you show me how to make one of those things?” Richard threw him a grateful glance and stood up. He bent and kissed the top of Mosi's head. She didn't stiffen or flinch, and he felt a bubble of joy at her acceptance of the embrace.

Richard laid a hand on Weber's shoulder. “I'll grab four hours and then call the office.”

“Six.”

“Five.”

“Deal.”

As he walked past, Richard crooked a finger at Eddie, who jumped up and fell into step with him as he headed to the sleeping quarters. “I'm worried about letting you go to the university tonight. There's an Old One loose,” he said quietly.

Eddie paled. Unlike the others, Eddie had seen a fully operational gate and faced down Old Ones at Grenier's Virginia compound. “If one of those monsters is around, there is no way I'm going. None of us should. Trout'll be pissed, but we're not going to figure out the sword tonight.”

“Will you ever figure it out?” Richard asked.

Eddie's shoulders slumped. “I don't know. We don't even know what it was … is, or how it was made.”

“So what is Trout working on if not recovering the sword?”

“It has to do with computing” was the cautious answer.

“Using Kenntnis?”

“It's hard to explain. And there's no point trying to explain unless it's going to be real.”

“Okay.”

They parted. Richard went to his bunk, stripped down to his briefs, set the alarm on his watch, and crawled under the covers. He didn't remember going to sleep. When he woke, Mosi was asleep in her alcove. Gently pulling back the screening blanket, Richard gazed down at the sleeping child. He would not,
could
not, allow her to fall into Grenier's hands.
How far would you go, and what would you be willing to do to prevent that?
He knew the answer, and he spent a long time under very hot water in the shower trying to wash away that knowledge.

The scientists were still up and appeared to be working. S
ö
zer caught Richard as he was heading upstairs with the satellite phone.

“A private plane arrived two days ago. It is owned by the Titchen Group. There were twelve people aboard, among them Alexander Titchen.” The general reacted to Richard's expression. “You know him?”

“We had a run-in. I'm not his favorite person.”

“We tried to arrange to have him detained, but we are getting resistance from unexpected sources within the government. And there are rumblings from the squatter slums on the hillsides. Police have been sent in, but I don't have specifics yet.”

“Thank you. Keep me posted.”

Upstairs, Richard nervously spun an Atat
ü
rk ashtray displayed on a counter. It didn't seem very respectful to the father of his country to grind out cigarette butts on his face, but maybe he just didn't understand smokers' culture, Richard thought while he listened to the phone ring.

“Lumina Enterprises.”

“Hey, Jeannette—”

“Grenier has called. Five times. He left a number and he wants you to call him.”

Richard sat with that for a moment. “Okay. Give me the number.” He grabbed a sales pad and pen from next to a cash register.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No more than usual.”

“Richard, you can't trust him.”

“I don't, but working in the dark doesn't help me.”

Jeannette sighed and gave him the number.

“Everything else okay?” Richard asked.

“No, nothing is okay,” she snapped. “But at least we're back functioning. Oh, and I talked with Pamela. She's on the job.”

“Good. Talk to you soon.” He disconnected, looked up, and met Weber's frown. “Are you going to start in on me now too?”

“You call him, and you'll give something away. He knows your buttons, Richard. He can manipulate you.”

“And I know his. Maybe we'll just cancel each other out.”

Weber turned away and hunched a shoulder. “Why don't you ever listen to me?”

Richard flinched. He reached out and tentatively touched Weber's hand. “I do. But we've got to kick this one way or the other. We can't go on in this limbo. We can't hide here forever.”

Weber closed his fingers over Richard's and squeezed hard. Unfortunately, it was his right hand, and Richard winced and gasped. “Sorry, sorry,” Weber said, and bestowed a quick kiss on the abused hand. Richard briefly touched the older man's cheek, then keyed in the number he'd been given. Grenier answered on the first ring.

“Richard. We need to meet. I have an offer for you.”

*   *   *

Bubbles from the soda floated ghostlike through the amber of the whiskey. Grenier watched as they fizzed and then died. He lifted the highball glass, the ice chiming against the sides, and took a sip. The bar at the Hilton Hotel was nearly deserted at this hour of the night. Despite the elegant furnishings, it seemed sad and depressing. Titchen had mocked Grenier when he'd proposed a meeting with Richard.

“
He won't come.
”

“
He will. We have a past.
”

“
And you really think he would quietly place himself, the child, and Kenntnis in our power?
”

“
He won't want the streets to run with blood.
”

“
It's going to happen. The Old One is hungry.
”

“
He doesn't have to know that. I'll convince him we're in control.
”

“
You just don't want him killed.
”

Grenier sensed scrutiny, and he ponderously swiveled on the too-small barstool. Richard stood in the doorway. The muted lights glinted on the silver gilt in his hair. He was dressed, for him, very casually—a crisp white shirt, a leather jacket, blue jeans—and he was studying Grenier. There was something in Richard's expression that made Grenier uneasy. Richard crossed to him.